The Caskeeteers : Go Cadaver, GO !

The Casketeers

Every now and then we look back at an album which readers may have missed but certainly deserves a look at as we search out the beating heart of the underground in all its shades. Such is the case with Go Cadaver, GO ! from US ghouls The Caskeeteers, a riotous brawl of an album which brings mischief, antagonism, and unbridled revelry from the land of the dead.

Formed in 1998 by upright bassist and vocalist Ritchie Dead, the band from Salem, Oregon has brought a scourge of psychobilly and horror punk to the breathing and expired earning hungry acclaim and decomposed lust through their impressive live performances and previous releases Dead Things and Tales From The Casketeers. The band has ‘buried numerous members’ as line-up changes added to the mayhem but with guitarist Gorey Hackerman and drummer Brian Terrible alongside Ritchie Dead, The Casketeers has hit their finest glory to date with the Psycho A Go Go Records released Go Cadaver, GO !

The album opens up its tomb of gore first with Carnival of Souls, an initial church organ beckoning and vocal revelation coaxing the ear into a stroll of bass persuasion, fiery guitar sonics and punchy rhythms. The brief welcome is soon a stomp of greedy riffs, eager beats, and inciting slap bass provocation. It is a keen and easy going track which though it falls short of igniting major sparks inside makes for a more than decent start with its scorching solo, boisterous vocals and harmonies, and rampant breath.

To be fair it is because of the quality of the rest of the album that the song and arguably a couple of other tracks pale slightly in comparison but that is the price to pay when including tracks like Wreck-n-Roll on your release. Sparking the ear with deep throaty bass plucking and a squall of vocal raucousness, the song swaggers with steaming blues guitar teasing and a resonating pulse which paws and coats the senses with expert temptation. Imagine Stray Cats and The Ramones in collusion with Johnny Burnette and you have this flaming uproar.

Tracks like Haunted Forever with its Generation X like rebellion and the seductive beat shuffle Killing Me Killing You continue the increasing strength of the album, a release which just gets better the further in to its shadowed depths you go.  The carnivorously strutting From Flesh To Bone as it sends the ear and passions into an excitable frenzy is a prime example whilst the following title track is like that boisterous best friend which with anthemic egging on leads you into a bruising errant display of behaviour.

The final four songs find album and band at its best, King Of Zombies leading the aural and passionate devilment. With a virulent contagion and sultry mid-song seducing, the song is psychobilly to commit adultery over, a delicious unquenchable lust with rewards that leave the heart breathless. From the throaty glories of the upright bass, the snapping rhythmic provocation, and the feverish guitar taunting in the song and album overall, The Casketeers is a primal inducement set free.

Among the Living is the most ravishing slab of excellence on Go Cadaver, GO !, the leading bass slaps and brewing sonic restlessness irresistible, a reaction which intensifies once the song spreads its muscles and devious addiction forming charms. Like all the tracks it is an immediate anthem for the instincts and soul which leads into unsolicited rapture and furious deeds of desecration, mentally and emotionally.

With the mutually scheming No Remorse, its dominant bass lick, barbed hooks, and cunning rhythms greedy and unrestrained, and the closing furore Sore Loser finishing off what is fully thrilling and invigorating release, Go Cadaver, GO ! is an unapologetic romp of death driven rock n roll. The album with extra whispers of the likes of Misfits and Volbeat to those flavours already mentioned, is one of those treats you instinctively return to and inspires eager hope that we see The Casketeers returning with more grave borne sounds soon.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Casketeers/169521496422613

http://psychoagogorecords.com

7.5/10

RingMaster 27/02/2013

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MFC Chicken: Music For Chicken

Sometimes things are just meant to be and that is the strong feeling when it comes to rock n rollers MFC Chicken and the background story to the band. It all started with the arrival of Canadian Spencer Evoy who with his trusty sax in tow moved over to the UK around a year ago. On what he called a pilgrimage to the recording studio of Joe Meek he found himself outside a fried chicken shop on Holloway Road, London. With stomach yearning for the delicacies within but pockets financially incapable to fully assist, Evoy slipped out his trusty friend…his sax you naughty people…and proceeded to busk for his supper. His sounds made their eager way through the window of the flat above the shop leading to its occupant bassist Bret Bolton to call out his appreciation and thus two musical brothers were united from that point on, the pair within days forming a band named after the now closed down shop, MFC Chicken.

It is a story which almost reaches fact is stranger than fiction heights but surely is the proof that this band was destined to bless the world with its presence, and wow does it do that with its debut album Music For Chicken. The release is pure joy from start to finish, Evoy and Mancunian Bolton alongside Brazilian Alberto Zioli on guitar, and London boys Reverand Parsley and Ravi on keys and drums respectively, unleashing the purest joy with their poultry themed party of garage rock n roll driven rhythm and blues. There is one warning though, for some reason it will make you feel rather hungry by the end of its final slice of pleasure.

Released August 6th via Dirty Water Records, a label which cannot do any wrong right now with its releases it seems, the album strolls up to the ear with a confident swagger called Chicken, Baby, Chicken. With initially the guitar teasingly showing off alongside great group harmonic shouts, the song erupts into an eager tonic for the heart through a fiery blend of Billy Haley, Johnny Burnette and Hasil Adkins. It is a great start easily matched by the following Every Girl on The Tube. From its first surge of Evoy pumping the senses full of tenor sax goodness the song ignites a feisty air for its greedy sounds, a garage rawness which lights the fuse for further submission and adoration. The guitar of Zioli is as keen and wonderfully teasing as the sax play and combined with the beats, keys, and playful bass sounds makes for one exuberant track.

As each song leaves its crazed energy the album simply gets better and better. It is not that the latter songs are any better than the earlier ones just that the accumulative effect is overwhelming and leaves one grinning like a man who just got lucky, which I guess is what happened. Tracks like the hot and crazed instrumental  Wild Safari with its elephant sax sounds and slight Batman theme sounding hook has limbs and emotions jumping even if the lack of rampaging chickens and stampeding cockerels noises is disappointing, whilst the  throbbing Laundromatic  is a scorching melodic blitz upon the ear with seeds in the band which has influenced MFC Chicken by their own admission the most The Sonics, which simply excites.

Music For Chicken at times offers up flavours which are easily recognisable in other bands and songs though you always feel it is merely coincidence such as with Chicken On The Bone, the song a dead ringer for a Showaddywaddy song  well if it had been given steroids and introduced to Johnny Kidd and The Pirates. Wine, Women, Rock’n’Roll is another with familiarity from a seeming heavy spice of Johnny Carroll splashed with a wash of Screamin Jay Hawkins.

The album closes as magnificently as it started with the trio of Man-Sized Tissues, Family Value Meal, and Fifty-Seven Acres of Pain ensuring every drip of pleasure is wrung into the heart of their recipients. The middle of the three is especially wonderful, its explosive melodic beauty of keys and guitar punctuated with sensational sax clucking a delight not heard since the fifties Fat Daddy Holems song, strangely enough called Chicken Rock.

Music For Chicken is nothing but total pleasure and a party for the ear and heart to gate crash relentlessly  whilst MFC Chicken has one diving into the fridge, damn them.

https://www.facebook.com/MFCChicken

RingMaster 10/07/2012

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